Sunset

Sometimes I sit on a chair outside to feel the sunset to feel. The ball descends, the color turns into orange to blood red and I am happy to watch the sun fall. If it continues, then it will not get immediately dark or cooler. Slowly the night falls down, without hurry. Soil and stones radiate still stored heat.

In the semi-dark the eyes play a trick of perception. Is there a man on forest fringing? Wandering points of light floating in the darkness? The sky gives me his last blue, which is engulfed by the grey and my body seems getting heavier in the growing dark. Somewhere a dog barks and foreign smells mingle in the rising mist.

The trees dream, take me along.

Are the things that will never recur more valuable to us than the current one? And does the farewell trigger the question "why?